Jagged Pieces of My Broken Life

The girl felt helpless and alone that night. It wasn't the first time she felt this way. Oh no, it was far from the first time. She felt this emptiness almost every day. However, this night was different from the rest. On this night, she felt especially empty, as if the vampires in her mind had sucked her soul dry, leaving her to wither and wallow in her self-pity. As she sat alone in the empty house, she got the urge to somehow release the pain, and so she turned to her usual outlet.

As the blood trickled down her arm she contemplated the events of the day. Certainly all the shit she had gone through warranted the need for the now all-too familiar pain. The pain had become her only friend in her lonely life. It wasn't as if it bothered her anymore. She could handle it now, now that she was used to it. In fact, her arms were almost completely numb, and she hardly ever felt anything there anymore. She only continued to cut because it was a temporary escape from her hellhole of a reality. She sat on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, trying to block out her life, denying to herself her true feelings for him.

But how could she? How could she deny the feelings that were clawing at her insides, turning them raw, making her sick with the pain?
"You know perfectly well why you won't convey these feelings to him," the voice at the back of her head said. "You're afraid he'll just break you down again."
"Well, it's true. He could never accept a sorry excuse for a human like me."
"But you just wish they could look past all that, don't you? You wish they could see the person you used to be, not the bitter bitch you've become. You wish they could see the lively, hopeful spirit you once were, before the cold, harsh reality came crashing down on you," the voice replied.
"That will never happen though. He hardly notices me anymore. I doubt he even knows I'm there. I've become invisible, a shadow on the wall no one pays the slightest bit of attention to, a wraith gliding through life, unnoticed by anyone."
"Well, if you keep up an attitude like that, he'll never notice you."
"Shut up."
"You must be insane, arguing with yourself."
"I said SHUT UP!"
Finally the voice died away. However, this made her feel, if even possible, emptier then before. She felt as if she really was invisible. That would explain why no one ever invited her anywhere, why she was never even treated with a nice, cheerful hello. Maybe she was, just as she said, just a shadow, a ghost doomed to walk the earth for eternity, always going unnoticed. The realization of this hit her full-force in the chest. She began to cry, more than she ever had before. She cried and cried until she felt dry, like there were no tears left in her.

She whispered to herself in dejection, "No one will even notice if I really do disappear." She looked at the lonely knife with longing. "I might as well go all the way."

When someone finally found her, they immediately checked for a pulse. But it was too late. A note was found lying next to her. It read:

"I've been so self-concious since everyone shunned me. You all forgot that I even existed, didn't you? Well, I don't anymore. You've gotten your wish.
I feel as though I've lost the battle, the one for my life. All of you knew how fragile-minded I already was, but you still ridiculed me. You basically shattered my existance. I was left to pick up the jagged pieces of my broken life. I gave up after that. You did that to me. You made me give up, ruined me. You think you can fix it all now, don't you? Well, it's too late. I've already stepped over the edge, I'm already lost. I picked up one of the leftover jagged pieces of my life and slit my own goddamn wrists.

Are you proud of the job you did now?"